Losses
by daw the minstrel
Summary: Eilian struggles with questions of reputation and honor. A few moments with Thranduil, but other than that, all OC. An early birthday present for The Karenator.


Losses

"You cannot let your adar do this to you, Celuwen."

"He is not—"

Eilian strode to the edge of the clearing and dug his fingernails into the rough bark of an elm. Despite the darkness, the tree hadn't yet settled into its nighttime song. Rather it thrummed in time to the music coming from the Green, where Elves danced as if nothing disastrous were about to happen. "There must be some way to stop him."

"Eilian, listen to me. My adar is not 'doing' anything to me."

Celuwen touched his sleeve, and he whirled to find her bent toward him, hands raised, urgency in every line of her body. Her face glimmered in the starlight, as if lit from within by the passion in her plea. "What he says makes sense. The presence of more Elves in the woods might very well help hold back the Shadow. The trees would be stronger for their presence."

Eilian gave an incredulous laugh. "You cannot be serious. Moving to a settlement now would be the height of stupidity."

Her almond-shaped eyes narrowed. "Stupidity?"

Hastily, he raised his hands, palm outward. "I did not mean that. I meant it would be dangerous."

"No more dangerous than what you will encounter as a warrior when you finish your training next year."

"But you are a woman." Oh yes. Celuwen was a woman, which was one of the reasons he was here with her behind a dense screen of lilacs rather than at the spring solstice feast on the Green.

"Eilian—"

"And the point of being a warrior is to protect women and children so they do not have to face danger." This whole argument had an unreal quality, as if he'd taken a wrong turn and wandered down a bad dream path. "You could stay here, Celuwen, even if your adar and naneth moved. You could stay with your uncle."

Celuwen flushed. "Have you heard a word I said? I agree with my adar. I want to live in a settlement. I think life in the woods sounds magical."

A hole opened in the pit of his stomach. "You want to go? But what about me? What about us?"

"By some chance, do you intend 'us' to mean you and me, or perhaps you and Thriwien?"

"That was weeks ago!"

"Or you and Toviel? She ran and told me about that picnic. I could tell she thinks I am a fool."

"But they are just—" He groped for words. "They are like fireflies. Their light catches my eye and I admire it but it does not mean anything. What is the matter with you, anyway? You never care what people say if you know they are wrong."

"How am I supposed to know they are wrong when you act the way you do?"

"Because I say they are! Do you think I have no honor, that I tell them one thing and you another?"

She looked away and sighed. "No, I know you better than that. It is not the fireflies really, or nor only them. What do you intend to do next year, Eilian?"

"You mean after I pledge my faith as a warrior? I expect I will serve in the Home Guard until I can talk Ithilden into sending me where I am really needed."

"I thought so, and really, I would expect no less of you. That is the right thing for you to do." She smiled faintly. "I will tell you which settlement I am in. You will be able to find me if you want to and can free yourself of other duties enough to come."

He grabbed her upper arms and pulled her against him. "Of course I would want to! How can you doubt it?" His body certainly wanted her. It jumped to life at her nearness. She softened in his embrace, her body warm against him from thigh to chest.

"Eilian!" called a familiar voice from the direction of the Green. "Celuwen! Are you there?"

For a heartbeat, Celuwen's gray eyes looked gravely into his. Eilian's breath caught. He stooped toward her, but to his dismay, she twisted away from him.

"Here we are, Gelmir," she said.

After a moment, Gelmir brushed through the screen of lilacs, rattling their buds and new leaves.

Celuwen rubbed her arms where Eilian had touched her. Eilian groped for words other than "Do not do this, Celuwen," or "You are hurting me, Celuwen," or possibly, "Go away, Gelmir. I am going to kiss Celuwen until she cannot bear to leave me."

"Ganion is looking for you, Eilian," Gelmir said. "He says he wants a chance to recoup his losses from the other night. He threatened to come look for you himself, but I thought you would rather have me." He looked from one of them to the other, his grin weakening. He cleared his throat. "Anyway, Ganion suggested a horse race. I was telling him about the stallion your adar gave you for your begetting day."

Celuwen turned away, and Eilian drew a deep breath as the power of speech returned a heartbeat too late. "A race? Now? That stallion is not easy with me yet, Gelmir. I haven't even named him. A race at night is not a good idea."

"I know." Gelmir lifted one shoulder apologetically. "It was Ganion who suggested it, not me."

"Tell Ganion you will not do it," Celuwen said.

"I cannot tell Ganion that," Eilian said. "He would accuse me of cowardice from now until the age's end! I will just have to brave it out." He turned to Gelmir. "Where does he want to race? The meadow or the woods?"

Gelmir rolled his eyes. "The meadow, of course. "Even Ganion is not mad enough to suggest a race through the trees at night."

Eilian grinned. "Maybe I should suggest it. That would put him off." He glanced at Celuwen, thinking she had made some sound, but she was looking away into lace of spring leaves feathering the treetops. "I have had not chance to try that stallion's speed yet, but he looks powerful. A race might be just the thing to let us know one another better." His heart quickened. A race on the new stallion would be exhilarating. And Celuwen would be there watching, seeing what she would leave behind if she moved away from the Stronghold.

With Gelmir at his side, he took a step toward the Green, then paused to look back over his shoulder. Celuwen sighed and joined him. Eilian caught her hand and rather than threading it through his arm, he kept hold of it, twining his fingers through hers. Her palm was warm and dry against his.

The Green swirled with laughing Elves moving to the lively music of the minstrels. The scent of roasted venison lingered in the air. Eilian spotted his mother and father among the dancers, his arms around her, his head bent to listen to something she was saying. Celuwen's parents sat near where Eilian, Gelmir, and Celuwen emerged from the woods. Her mother waved, but her father frowned at them. Resentment at Sólith's selfishness flared in Eilian's chest. How could Celuwen's father be so careless with the safety of his wife and daughter? Eilian considered telling Sólith how wrong he was, but instantly dismissed the image. Sólith would never listen to him. Maybe Eilian could get his own father to speak to the Elf.

Eilian glanced at his father's tall form and grimaced. Probably not. Thranduil would view the matter as private to Sólith's household. Eilian's only hope was to convince Celuwen to stay.

He led his friends around the edge of the Green and stopped where the path to the royal stables forked off. "Gelmir, go tell Ganion that I am coming." His breath caught at the idea of a few moments alone with Celuwen in the night dimmed stables.

Celuwen tugged her hand free. "I will come with you, Gelmir."

Gelmir raised an eyebrow and darted a look at Eilian. Then he offered Celuwen his arm, and the two of them went off toward the meadow.

Eilian watched them vanish into the darkness before striding toward the stables, head down, mind churning. He'd never convince Celuwen to stay if she would not give him a chance. But maybe it was good she didn't want to be alone with him in the stables. Maybe she was afraid of her own reaction to his kiss, his touch. At the thought of that possibility, warmth glowed in his belly. Surely she would come around if he could just talk to her. Well, not just talk, but also talk.

The stables were dark except for one lantern glowing in the center. The wooden floor was as clean as the floor in the king's Hall. Sleepy horses stirred as Eilian walked down the aisle between their boxes. Eilian drew near the one holding his new stallion, a tall, deep-chested creature, with an unusual blond coat and white mane and tail. The groom on night duty appeared out of the darkness. The groom's eyes slid from Eilian to the stallion and back again. His mouth curved in a slow smile.

"Taking this fellow out for an airing?" he asked.

"Indeed," Eilian said. The stallion shifted, then shook his head, as if to wake himself.

"The king chose well in him." The groom's smile widened into a grin. "I think your adar was as excited about the gift as you were."

Eilian laughed. "Adar caught me by surprise, I will say that." He opened the stall door and entered, speaking softly and holding out his hand for the horse to blow on. The horse regarded him gravely, as if uncertain whether he was to be trusted. Eilian patted the animal's neck, then turned to lead him out.

The groom stepped aside. "Bring him back in one piece, please. And I mean him, not you. You can break your head if you like, but I do not want to have to explain to the stablemaster how this horse came to be hurt overnight, and believe me, you do not want to have to do it either."

Eilian laughed again and led the stallion out into the night and along the path to the meadow. He kept a hand on the stallion's neck and murmured into the animal's twitching ear. He really would have to be careful, he thought. A night race was as dangerous for the horse as the rider.

At the near end of the meadow, he found a dozen or so of his friends, sprawled on the grass or lounging against the rotting remains of an old fence. Someone had brought a skin of wine and was passing it around. The horse shied away from them, so Eilian moved away too.

"Good evening, Eilian," called a voice he recognized as Toviel's. He nodded politely but otherwise ignored her. He glanced around, hoping Celuwen had noticed how virtuous he was, and found her standing by the fence next to Gelmir.

Ganion jumped to his feet. "Eilian!" He swayed slightly, as if the night breeze were too much for him. "I have just been talking to Celuwen, and she asked me as a favor to her not to ride tonight." He grinned. "She says I have had too much to drink."

Eilian couldn't quarrel with that. If the wine was Ganion's contribution to the evening, he had sucked a bellyful out of the skin before he shared. Eilian didn't know if he was more relieved or disappointed to lose the chance of a race, but he did know he didn't like the idea of Celuwen going behind his back and stopping it. He reminded himself he was trying to convince Celuwen not to leave and suppressed the comment he wanted to make.

"Surely you two are tired of this by now," Tithrandir said from his place lounging on the grass. "Why not just toss a coin?" He took a drink of wine.

"Because that would be tedious for us to watch," Toviel said. She accepted the wine skin and drank.

"All I want is a chance to win my knives back," Ganion said. "We will have to think of something other than a race."

Celuwen's head snapped toward Eilian, her mouth crinkled in distress. She moved next to him, and the stallion nibbled at her hair. She put a hand on the horse's neck. "I know you think I have already interfered, Eilian," she murmured, "and I am sorry. But did you really let Ganion gamble his knives away to you? Those have to be the most valuable thing he owns."

"I would not really take them!"

The stallion pranced sideways, giving Eilian an excuse to delay while he got control of his annoyance. He stroked the stallion's neck. In the starlight, its coat gleamed like a gold coin. Eilian slapped the horse's rump and sent it off to graze. He didn't think it would go far, but he probably should keep an eye on it. He and the horse were still learning how far to trust one another.

"Ganion and I have been wagering back and forth for two weeks now," Eilian said. "He is so incompetent, I have kept winning and then he asks for a chance to make good his losses. In truth, I am as tired of it as Tithrandir is. I just have to think of a way to give the knives back to Ganion even when he loses."

"Why not just refuse to take them?"

He shook his head. "He has his honor to think of."

"And what about your honor, or at least your reputation? You do not intend to accept the knives, but in the meantime, you look like the spoiled son of the king, taking something one of his father's people can not afford to lose."

"Celuwen, please just stay out of it."

She stiffened. "Fine. You do what you think is best, and so will I." She spun hard enough that her skirt slapped against Eilian's leg. For a moment, he thought she was leaving, but though she marched off to a point beyond the old fence, she stopped and turned to watch, her stiff back making her look like the disapproving tutor of the relaxed wine drinkers on the grass.

Eilian groaned. He didn't always understand Celuwen, but he knew enough to realize that when she said "fine," she didn't mean everything was fine. She meant he was wrong but she was tired of arguing with him. He started toward her, but Ganion jumped between them. Wine vapors twisted into Eilian's nose.

"We need to decide on some kind of contest, Eilian. I brought these." Ganion showed Eilian a pair of long knives. As he ran a hand along one of the embossed leather sheathes, two lines formed between his brows. "I will give them to you if I lose of course." He looked up. "Maybe we can throw them. Winner collects everything we have wagered so far and I suppose one more thing. Would you accept my word to give you the next deer I bring down?"

Eilian wrenched his attention away from Celuwen. He blew out his breath. Ganion was ordinarily good enough with a knife, though he always flubbed the crucial toss in a game. And he was drunk. Eilian had to find a way to spare Ganion's pride and still resist taking his valuables.

"The promise of a deer seems fair," Eilian said. "We can throw these at a target. Gelmir can arrange it. But I want one more condition."

Ganion raised an eyebrow.

"The winner decides when the loser pays up," Eilian said. That should do it, he thought. He just wouldn't collect the knives or anything else he'd won. He could tease Ganion about it and Ganion would grouse, but he wouldn't really mind too much. Everyone would know it was just a game, and no one would see Eilian as the "spoiled son of the king."

He glanced at Celuwen, but her face was unreadable.

Gelmir was on his feet, scanning the area. He trotted to a wooden post, one of the few bits of the fence still more or less upright. He pulled a strip of wood from the loose wood from a fallen crosspiece and stuck it into a crack in the post. "Each of you throws at the marker. The closest one wins."

Ganion wiped his hand on his leggings. "All right." He handed a knife to Eilian, who pulled off the sheath and handed it to Gelmir. The knife gleamed with polish and balanced well in Eilian's hand. "That one has a nick in the handle, see?" Ganion pointed to what he meant. "So we can tell which throw is which."

Gelmir pointed Eilian and Ganion to a place about twenty paces from the post. Eilian moved to stand there, then risked a glance at Celuwen. To Eilian's surprise, her lips were parted and face soft, suggesting nothing so much as naked longing. When she saw him watching her, she stiffened again and a mask settled over her features.

"What are you wagering this time, Eilian?" Tithrandir called from the sidelines.

Eilian jerked his attention back to the contest. He licked his lips. What could he wager? Something that suggested how much he valued Ganion's offerings. Celuwen would like that.

A gleaming figure moved in his peripheral vision, the stallion, looking off into the woods at the meadow's far end. The horse's nostrils quivered. He must smell something exciting on the night breeze.

"My horse," Eilian said. "I wager my horse."

For a heartbeat, no one spoke. A murmur ran through the watchers on the grass. Eilian looked to see how Celuwen was reacting.

She stood rigidly still, staring at him. Then she turned and ran into the trees.

"Are you sure? Eilian, are you sure?" Ganion's tone suggested this wasn't the first time he had asked.

Eilian's eyes were on the disappearing Celuwen, but he managed to say, "I am sure." How could he back down now?

"We should let it take the place of everything else you have put up," Ganion said.

Eilian shrugged. "Why not?"

Gelmir drew his hand over his mouth. "All right. Both of you throw on my signal."

Eilian decided he would just get this over with, and then he would catch up to Celuwen and talk to her. What was wrong with her anyway? He hefted the knife, meant not for throwing but to replace a sword for easier riding or movement through the trees. He had time to think he should have suggested using their belt knives before Gelmir cried, "Throw!"

Eilian brought his arm back and flung the knife. Next to him, Ganion's movement was a blur. An instant later, two knife handles protruded from the post, quivering with a light, metallic whir.

Ganion ran toward the target, with Gelmir hurrying after him. Eilian followed, looking anxiously toward the trees for signs of Celuwen. The sight of two figures nearly made him stumble. Celuwen was nowhere in sight, but her parents stood nearby, watching him. Sólith's mouth was twisted in disgust. Isiwen darted a look from him to Eilian.

Ganion's shout split the night, and Eilian whirled to see him jumping up and down, arms over his head. He slipped and wound up leaning against the fence post, grinning widely. Eilian's heart thudded in his ears. He hurried to the target.

Gelmir pointed to the knives. The one with the nick in the handle had grazed the edge of the scrap of the wood. The other, the one Ganion had thrown, had pinned it to the post.

"Sorry, Eilian." Gelmir sounded as if he were strangling. Eilian wasn't surprised. His own chest felt as if someone had drawn a strap tightly around it.

The loungers from the grass gathered near the target, laughing. Tithrandir pulled Ganion to his feet and pounded him on the back.

"Bad luck, Eilian." Toviel laid her hand on his arm.

Eilian jerked away. He looked across the meadow to where the stallion watched them, ears flicking disapprovingly at the noise they were making. The stallion's mane drifted like swan feathers on the night breeze. The night groom in the stables had been right. His father had looked almost as thrilled in giving the horse to Eilian as Eilian had felt at receiving it. Eilian's heart contracted. Then he walked steadily across the meadow. The horse saw him coming and sauntered toward him. Eilian threaded his fingers through the silky mane and guided the animal to where Ganion stood, eyes huge, mouth open.

Eilian drew a deep breath. One chance remained. "Do you wish to claim your winnings now?"

"Do you think I am mad?" Ganion said. "Of course I do."

Eilian swallowed and stepped away. The horse looked at him reproachfully, then lifted its head and looked away, as if in disgust.

Gelmir touched Eilian's shoulder. "Surely Ganion's parents will not allow him to keep it," he murmured.

"Why not? He won it." Eilian shook the hand off, wheeled to walk away, and nearly ran into Celuwen's parents. For a moment, they stared at one another.

"Good evening, Eilian," Isiwen said.

"Good evening." Eilian was amazed to find he could speak. "Celuwen was here, but she left a little while ago."

"I will be sure to tell her we saw you," Sólith said. He strode away, leaving Isiwen to follow.

Eilian nearly moaned. He needed to talk to Celuwen. The Valar only knew what her father was going to tell her. But one thing was as clear to him as the voice of the owl hooting in the distance. He had to tell his parents what had happened and he had to do it now. All manner of unpleasantness was likely to rain down on his head once they knew, but painful experience had taught him that if his parents, and in particular his father, heard about this from someone other than Eilian, the storm would be much, much worse.

He walked away from the whooping crowd in the meadow and started for home, managing to avoid running until he knew he was out of their sight.

Music still played on the Green, but his parents had evidently gone home. That was probably better since it meant he didn't have to wait to tell them. He would certainly never have broken the news in the public space of the Green. He forced himself across the bridge, up the steps, and through the antechamber to the hallway along which lay the royal family's living quarters.

The lanterns in the hallway had not yet been dimmed for the night, which meant his parents were still up, and indeed, the door to the sitting room was open and the low murmur of his parents' voices drifted out. His mother gave a throaty laugh. Eilian paused to steady his breathing, then walked toward the doorway. When he was an arm's length from it, his father emerged and pushed the door partway shut behind him before he saw Eilian.

His father halted, blinking. "Good evening, Eilian. You are home early."

"Are you retiring?" Eilian asked.

"No. Ithilden sent a message I need to answer."

Eilian thoughts skittered into frantic action. He could let his father go off to write to Ithilden and catch his mother alone in the sitting room. Then he could tell her about the horse, and she might temper his father's fury. Sometimes, she understood Eilian's stupider actions more clearly than he did.

He must have waited a moment too long because his father raised an eyebrow. "Is something the matter?" He glanced back over his shoulder and pushed the sitting-room door softly closed.

Eilian suppressed a groan. "No. Or rather, yes, there is. May I speak to you? In private?"

His father's face took on a wary look but he only gestured toward his office, a few yards down the hall. Eilian stepped aside to let his father pass, followed him into the room, and shut the door. His father seated himself behind the desk but left Eilian standing in front of it like a guilty petitioner. Fair enough, Eilian thought.

"Now what is this about?" his father asked.

Eilian tried to say "I lost my horse on a bet," but his stomach twisted in a knot so tight he felt as if he were about to vomit. He swallowed. "I…You know Ganion?"

His father gave a sharp nod.

"For the last two weeks, he and I have been wagering on various things. Not much at first, but he kept losing and wanting to up the stakes and try again."

His father hissed out a long breath. "How much have you lost?"

Eilian had been about to continue his story and fumbled for a moment before he could jump to the end. "My horse."

His father froze, hand in mid-air reaching for a jeweled dagger he used as a letter opener. He let his hand fall to his desk with a small thump. "The horse I gave you for your begetting day?"

Eilian nodded, unable to force out a word of excuse even if he'd been able to think of one.

His father's face twisted in what looked almost like pain.

"I am so sorry," Eilian said in a rush. "But once the whole thing got rolling, I could think of no way to stop it. Ganion wound up betting his long knives, and when he lost, of course I could not take those, so we just kept on betting."

"You planned to lose the horse to save Ganion from losing the knives?"

"No, I planned to win and then tell him to hang onto them until I wanted them and treat it like a joke. And he was drunk! I was so sure I would win. I would never have taken the knives. I cannot believe he took the horse."

His father leaned back in his chair. "Eilian, there are times when you leave me speechless. Why not just refuse the knives in the first place?"

"Ganion would have taken it as a slap to his honor."

"And this is better? I am grateful you at least saw it would be dishonorable for you to take the knives, but your actions make you look even more heedless than you are. And as far as I can tell, you acted in service to a young male's touchy pride misidentified as honor. I am not talking just about Ganion's pride, but about yours too. Reputation is not the same as honor, but it matters, especially in one who represents me, whether he wants to or not."

Heat burned in Eilian's cheeks. He kept his gaze on the wall behind his father's head. "I am sorry," he repeated.

His father ran a hand over his face and straightened. "One thing I can tell you. If you think you can just take a horse from my stables the next time you need one, you are wrong. You can walk where you need to go and stay home if it is too far."

Eilian struggled to come to grips with the idea of having no horse. "I will need a horse for training."

"Use one from the warrior stables like the other novices do."

Eilian pictured the looks and whispers that would follow him the first time he took a horse from the warrior stables. He swallowed. He was beginning to think he might have lost more than he realized, including, he feared, his father's trust. "I promise nothing like this will ever happen again, Adar."

"I want your solemn word that you will never again wager something beyond trifles," his father said.

"You have it." At least his father believed Eilian's word was good.

"Leave me," his father said. "I have work to do."

Eilian bowed and left the room. He stumbled down the hall to his chamber, then collapsed in the chair by the fire. As always, a cup and a jug of wine stood on the table at his elbow. From habit, he poured himself some, but when he raised it to his lips, the smell reminded him of Ganion, and he flung the wine into the fire, where it sizzled before the flames flared again. He thumped the cup down and dropped his head back against his chair. Ganion had probably been just drunk enough to relax when he threw the knife and thus succeed where he'd always failed before. Eilian grimaced. Now there was an explanation he did not intend to give his father.

He sat, letting his mind drift over the night, and coming back again and again to one image: Celuwen disappearing into the dark. Tomorrow he would talk to her. He would explain what happened. Surely she would come around. She always did.

He sighed. He should go to bed.

A knock sounded at his door. He suppressed his groan. His father must have decided he had more to say. "Come," he called, and his mother entered, looking solemn. Dismay clogged Eilian's throat. He stood until she took the chair across from him, then sank back into his own chair.

"Your adar told me what happened," she said.

"I truly am sorry. I promised Adar it would not happen again."

"I am glad to hear that. I have no objection to wagering in general. We Wood-elves enjoy taking a chance. But surely you have heard your adar say only fools wager more than they can afford to lose."

"I know. That horse!" He dropped his head into his hands.

"The horse is no small matter, but you must know you lost far more than that. An Elf who is so careless cannot hope to have others respect him, and even more, he cannot respect himself."

Eilian flinched. He lifted his gaze to find her leaning toward him, her face earnest.

"You are better than you showed yourself to be tonight, Eilian. You are intelligent, loyal, brave, and capable not only of seeing the good in others, but of bringing it out in them. I beg you to live up to that better self. I love you too much to see you do less."

He swallowed around the lump in his throat. "I will certainly try, Naneth. This was--" He spread his hands. "It was a mistake, one I plan to learn from."

She sat back, eyeing him thoughtfully. "There is one other thing. You know that leather bracelet you worked for my begetting day?"

Bewildered by the change of subject, Eilian nodded. Weaving eight leather threads into an elaborate design had taken all his small patience.

"I have decided to give it as a prize to one of the lembas maidens this fall. They can draw lots for it."

Pain swelled in Eilian's chest. "You do not want it?"

She cocked her head. "It would hurt you if I gave it away?"

He swallowed. "It was a gift," he said stiffly. "You can do as you like with it."

"Yes, and that stallion was your adar's gift to you. He took such joy in giving it to you, Eilian. You hurt him tonight when you treated his gift as if it did not matter to you."

Eilian groaned. "I am so sorry. I will tell him so tomorrow."

"Good." She stood, so he did too. Then she stretched to kiss his cheek, and he smelled the faint scent of her rose perfume.

"Naneth?"

She paused on her way to the door. "Yes?"

"You are not really giving that bracelet away, are you?"

She smiled. "No, sweetling. It is one of my greatest treasures."

When she'd gone, he banked the fire, then stripped, washed, and climbed into bed. He lay on his back, looking at his ceiling, and as he had done before, he saw Celuwen walking away, one of the things he'd lost when he lost the stallion. No, wait. That was wrong. She'd walked away while he was still the winner of the string of wagers he and Ganion had made. He frowned, concentrating. He had lost the horse when he lost the bet. But had he lost more when he was winning? His honor, perhaps? His reputation? Celuwen.

He shivered and turned on his side, pulling the blankets up to his chin. He stared into the dark and tried to sort it through. Where was victory? Where was loss? In the struggle to become himself, that particular puzzle might take him a while to work out.


End file.
